


the fear of the fall

by DianaSolaris



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Drinking & Talking, Drinking to Cope, F/M, French Characters, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Break Up, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 12:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15143252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DianaSolaris/pseuds/DianaSolaris
Summary: Eponine wasn’t sure which of the three was more embarrassing; being arrested, asking Marius Pontmercy to bail her out, or having Pontmercy show up with his perfect, hideous flower of a girlfriend.Or - Eponine keeps having to be bailed out after protests, knows she would like Cosette a lot more if she wasn't dating Marius, and doesn't have time to be a pining idiot. The heart cannot be tamed, but Eponine is fairly certain whoever said that wasn't trying hard enough.





	the fear of the fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alley_Skywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/gifts).



> ...I'll be honest, this is trying very hard to be a multichaptered fic. But for the moment, it's a standalone young professionals/recent graduates fic! I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it :)

Eponine wasn’t sure which of the three was more embarrassing; being arrested, asking Marius Pontmercy to bail her out, or having Pontmercy show up with his perfect, hideous flower of a girlfriend. But if she really had to be put on the spot to answer - she would probably have answered with the third.

It could have been worse, she reflected. As far as police stations went, it was a cleaner one, and while her wrists  _ hurt,  _ she’d avoided getting pepper sprayed. All in all, for a protest, it had been a pretty good result!

Although, judging from the look on Marius’s face - somewhere between a pouting puppy and a disappointed seven-year-old - the ‘better than usual’ defense wasn’t going to fly. 

“So,” he said finally, apparently unperturbed by the innocent look she was giving him through the bars, “let me guess. They started it?”

“They’re cops,” Eponine mumbled. “They always start it.”

“Hey, don’t drag me into this,” grumbled the cop at the desk. “I eat my donuts, I keep you dumbasses in line, I ain’t no riot cop. And resisting arrest is a  _ crime,  _ honey.”

“Yeah, yeah, suck an-”

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Marius interrupted loudly, “this gentleman is being very nice and letting us bail you out since apparently you only resisted arrest a  _ little.  _ His words, not mine,” he added  _ sotto voce. _

“Uh huh.” Eponine waited for the cell door to get unlocked, waved goodbye to her cellmates, and then glared down at Marius’s hand clasped around her bicep. “...And this is?”

“Now, listen, s-sister, you’ve got to stop wandering out of the house when you have a fever!” Marius wiggled his finger at her.

Oh, he  _ had  _ to be joking.

Eponine glanced over at Cosette, who was standing primly by the door and trying not to laugh. Of course that bloody princess had put him up to this.

“Now let’s get home before Father sends your bodyguard after us. The butler’s making your favourite meal tonight.” Before Eponine could protest that she was a  _ big girl  _ and could make up and maintain her own cover stories, Marius had whisked her out of the police station, and she was out underneath the stars.

“I’m  _ so  _ glad that worked,” Cosette exhaled. 

“Okay, what was that?” 

Marius ran his fingers through his hair with a little laugh. “Well, uh, you’re now the youngest daughter of a rich family, who happens to get the vapors a lot.”

“The...vapors.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re blaming my indignance on  _ mental illness. _ ”

“No!”

He was  _ too  _ easy. Eponine still wasn’t satisfied though, and pulled a hair elastic off her wrist, tying up her hair and trying to get the last bits of asphalt out of it. “I would have been fine.”

“Stop being so dismissive!” Cosette grabbed Eponine’s arm and hooked hers through it. “We’re your  _ friends. _ Of course we helped.”

Eponine managed a smile. Oh, it wasn’t even that she  _ disliked  _ Cosette. But she was a contrary kind of girl. Somebody who was so sunshine and roses that everybody seemed to like was, in Eponine’s books, impossible to trust completely. Even if Cosette  _ hadn’t  _ been currently dating the love of her life…

Yeah, she wasn’t going to think about that now.

“So how  _ did  _ you get the money? You might be telling the cops you’re a, what, rich baron or something? But I know you haven’t gotten new clothes in months…”

Marius suddenly looked very embarrassed.

Eponine turned to look at Cosette, who gave her a very,  _ very  _ sunny smile in response.

Oh. Great. 

She wondered if it was too late to go get herself arrested again.

 

\---

 

Eponine was twenty-two years old, a recent graduate of Hugo University and valedictorian of her class. She had, in fact, gotten the highest GPA in her entire program, which was no small feat in a journalism program in one of the best universities in France.

Which was why it was that much more galling to be unemployed for the fifth time in a year, and staring out the window at the distantly visible Eiffel Tower with a lingering melancholy she couldn’t place.

Oh, that was a straight up lie. She could place it just fine. It was just  _ embarrassing.  _ She was a journalist and an activist - she was setting out to change the world, to shake things up, to make a difference. And women who intended to change the world didn’t get weepy and mopey over boys, even if they were stupid boys who couldn’t get a hint if she dropped it two inches from his face and dated law students with perfect hair.

“My hair is  _ fine, _ ” she grumbled, yanking the brush through it. “There is nothing wrong with my hair. It’s not  _ my  _ fault she always looks like she just walked off a movie set.  _ Merde, cette petite jument… _ ”

Well, she had to look at the positives. Marius was always telling her she needed to stop and smell the flowers. She was in her apartment tonight, not a cold jail cell. That was good.

She also didn’t have any food. So she picked up her wallet and glanced outside. One of the little pizzerias was still open, and -

She opened her window, glancing down at the pizzeria’s patio. “...Pontmercy, what are you doing?”

Marius grinned up at her. “Eating pizza. What does it look like?”

“With what money?”

He waggled his finger at her. “Come down here and I’ll tell you all about the struggles of Paypal.”

“Oh, so you finally got some payoff from that stupid blog of yours.”

“Not so loud! Now get down here and eat with me. Or I’ll eat all of this pizza while you watch.”

“ _ Batarde!  _ Wait two seconds!” She grabbed her coat from off the hook and hurtled down the stairs, hoping she wouldn’t wake her landlord. She needn’t have hurried, though; by the time she got down the patio the food still wasn’t ready, although Marius was quite happily chewing on the complimentary breadsticks with far more butter than necessary slathered onto them.

“You’re going to die of a heart attack,” she said wryly as she sat down.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll die of exposure, cold or galloping consumption long before then. Haven’t you read up on how to be poor in Paris?”

She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “So, this mysterious windfall?”

“Somebody donated to my Ko-Fi. Actually, several someones. Somebody with social media reach must have liked my essay on linguistic colonialism in the digital sphere.” He tipped his glass of water at her in a mocking toast. “First stop, Twitter. Next, peer-reviewed journals!”

“I believe in you and your enduring faith that the online  _ hoi polloi  _ will make the philosophical implications of linguistics a hit.”

“Stranger things have happened. Besides, French is an inherently political language. It’s the language of art and poetry and love, yes, but it’s the language of brutality as well. And with such clumsy things as human translators in the way, how can we ever achieve  _ true  _ meaning? Things like tweets and online interactions are just another layer to the -” He paused, then gave a shy grin. “You’ve heard this one.”

“Several times.” She chewed on a breadstick.

“...Well, then you know I have a point.”

“Mm, my only problem is French as the language of brutality. It’s one of many. And besides, you’re letting the English off the hook.”

Marius’s expression soured. “...Yes, but then I’d have to write about the  _ English. _ ”

“As you write and translate blog articles that are massive hits with the Americans.”

“Yes, but those are  _ Americans.  _ We  _ like  _ Americans.”

“We tolerate Americans.”

“...They spend lots of money. And we have a statue there.”

“Aw, are you getting nationalist on me?”  
Marius just sulked in response, and Eponine tried not to laugh. Then she sighed, gazing at him. “....I keep thinking you’ll actually come to one of those protests. I know you’re all about solving injustice with impassioned debate and high art, but… I don’t know.”

Marius chuckled, tucking a hand under his chin. “I keep meaning to. I don’t know what stops me.”

“Oh, I know. You’ve fished me out of too many jail cells.” Eponine sighed. “You know you don’t have to, right? I can take care of myself.” A smile flickered over her face, and she hoped Marius couldn’t see the sarcasm. “Unless this really  _ was  _ all Cosette’s idea.”

Marius flushed a little. “She helped. But as far as I’m concerned, you’d do the same for me. You’ll keep getting yourself in trouble and I’ll keep helping.” He adjusted his lapel. “Which of course, means you need me to be the straitlaced one that makes you look good.”

Eponine reached forward and brushed a crumb off of his lapel. “Well, Mr. Straightlaced, what brings you to an innocent girl’s piazza in the middle of the night?”

Marius turned bright red, and tugged at his collar. “I - well -  _ oh look, our pizza- _ ”

“Uh huh.” She was just teasing, of course. She didn’t know what she’d do if Marius ever responded to her flirting genuinely. They were friends, and she was at peace with that. Even if she couldn’t make herself like Cosette.

Marius sank into a brooding silence. Then, poking at the pizza slice he’d put onto his plate, he mumbled, “Cosette broke up with me.”

What.

Oh.

Oh  _ shit. _

“W-why?” Eponine fumbled, pieces of mushroom falling from her pizza slice into her lap. She hurriedly put it down. 

Marius shrugged. “It’s been coming for a while.”

“The  _ hell  _ it has. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were working it out - sort of.”

Eponine tried to catch her breath. Shit. No, this was a terrible idea. Half the reason she hadn’t had the nerve to say anything to Marius was because he was  _ taken.  _ Cosette was only the latest, but she’d been a  _ good  _ one, all of Eponine’s personal nitpicks to the contrary.

But now, Marius was single. And Eponine was single. And she was running out of excuses.

“Well - well, what are you  _ here  _ for then?”

“I wanted advice. I know you and Grantaire didn’t work out and that ended…”

“Horribly?” she finished, although with a small smile on her face. She didn’t  _ dislike  _ Grantaire. There was just something about walking in on her boyfriend with his best friend’s cock in his mouth that really put into perspective his misgivings about going down on her.

“It could have gone better.”

“Look, you want advice?” Eponine reached out and plucked Marius’s phone from his breast pocket. “Install Tinder.” She started scrolling through his phone - “Ooh, already installed! Smart boy.”

“Th-that was Joly!”

“Of course it was.” Eponine started flipping through. “Hm, she’s cute, she’s got butterface, she’s okay but I can’t see you with a redhead-”

“What are you doing?” Marius mumbled uncertainly.

“Finding you a - well, not a date. But you need to get laid.”

“ _ Why? _ ”

Eponine pointed the phone at him. “First rule of being newly single, absolutely use sex to distract yourself from your problems.”

“Can’t I smoke clove cigarettes and write poetry instead?”

“You have to include the sex. It’s the cinnamon of the recipe.”

“A recipe for what?”

“Er, Allan Ginsberg, I think.”

“Can’t I be Jack Kerouac instead? At least he was  _ mildly  _ French.”

“If you ever decide to be Quebecois, I’m never talking to you again.”

Marius chuckled, although Eponine could see the bags under his eyes now. She turned to the waiter. “Any chance we can get your cheapest bottle of wine?”

The waiter glanced over at Marius. “...Haven’t I seen you here before?”

“Possibly! I’m a writer.”

“Oh dear. You get a bottle on the house.”

Marius’s smile dipped into a scowl, and he sulked, slouching back on his chair. “Pity wine. Why am I getting pity wine?”

“Appreciate it while you can.” Then Eponine flashed a smile. “I’ll buy the next bottle.” Mostly because she felt like she would need to be very,  _ very  _ drunk to deal with getting Marius a new girlfriend.

 

\---

 

Somehow, Marius had avoided asking the question which she’d seen in his eyes;  _ why are you trying so hard to get me laid?  _ It was a valid question, and came with a second half from her own conscience -  _ why the HELL don’t you just ask him out? _

Perhaps it was that base human emotion, fear. But at least on the surface, Eponine didn’t want a relationship. Oh, she did in theory. The idea of being able to hold hands with Marius in front of the Louvre or say ‘I love you’ to him before hanging up the phone instead of afterwards - those made her want to cry in longing.

But every single time she’d been in a relationship, the same things had happened. Disagreements that had turned into arguments and then into fights; jealousy from men who hadn’t been able to get over the fact that she wanted a  _ career,  _ not just a job on the side; and more than once, the idea of her being a ‘revolutionary’ or an ‘activist’ completely scoffed at.

She didn’t truly believe that Marius would do any of it on purpose. But men were, at the end of the day, incomparably stupid when it came to their egos. No, it was much better for her to focus on her career, and simply  _ deal  _ with her own endless pining. It was the kind of thing she could deal with.

It was mildly insulting, of course, that Marius seemed to have no idea, but what had she just said? Boys. Two heads to think with and neither of them going anywhere.

Right now, Marius was passed out on  _ her  _ bed, and she had to figure out where she was going to sleep. The floor, probably. She hadn’t had nearly as much wine as Marius, but she was right on the edge between pleasantly tipsy and definitely drunk, and just glad she didn’t have anything to do tomorrow. 

“You’ll be okay,” she murmured, standing over him.

Marius shifted, then opened his eyes, looking up at her. “Well, I know that.” Then he smiled. “Besides, I’ve got you looking out for me.”

A pain flared through Eponine’s chest, and the stray thought -  _ maybe it’s worth it -  _ accompanying it. “Don’t go getting yourself in trouble on purpose.”

“Says the protestor.”

Eponine chuckled, then sat down on the bed next to him. Maybe she  _ was  _ being silly. It was strange to be so focused on her career as a journalist when she’d been grabbed by the police three, maybe four times. All four times released with no charges, but still.

Maybe if Marius came with her, one of those times. Maybe she’d consider it.

But it was all just pointless posturing if Marius didn’t feel the same way, and there was no reason to think he did.

“Mm. Stay with me.”

“Wh- what did you say?”

“It’s cold. Stay with me.”

“You’re drunk,” Eponine mumbled, but climbed into the bed anyway, letting her arm hang loosely but protectively over Marius’s waist. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Marius slurred, the wine making his words collapse into each other.

“Do what?”

“Go to all those marches. Even after getting arrested. You’re so  _ brave.  _ I’d just be - standing there, trying not to wet my pants.”

Eponine tried to remember how to breathe, sudden tears stinging at her eyes. “I’m not brave.”

“You  _ are.  _ You’re the bravest person I know.” Marius cuddled back into her, then took hold of her hand, pressing it to his cheek. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

Eponine’s heart did a funny little jump at the word ‘friends’. But - “Yeah. Me too.” And it was true.

The rest would come in time, whenever she was brave enough for that. And even if it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, that would be okay, too.


End file.
